New Messages
by HalfwayDecentFanfiction
Summary: Skye/Simmons. High School AU. When bright overachiever Jemma Simmons gets stuck with punk slacker Skye Bennet as her lab partner, she discovers the other girl is more than she seems. Romance blossoms between them.
1. Chapter 1

"If you don't get into the program, there must be some flaw in the admissions process," Jemma Simmons declared.

"Oh, I'm going to get in," Fitz replied smugly.

"I hope so," Simmons sighed. Ever since she was young, getting into the Emberly Program, an advanced placement program for young STEM geniuses, had been her dream. They would be transferred to a private boarding school with state-of-the-art technology and only the best and brightest students and teachers to work with. It was rumored that Stephen Hawking himself taught a few classes there for top students. Simmons couldn't imagine going there without Fitz by her side. Lately, though, she had been nervous about whether or not she was going to get in. Her science grade was the top in her grade, of course, but she was worried about how she was doing in math. And besides, there was always the possibility of a slip.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Fitz said, putting his hand on hers. "You're the smartest person I know. You'll get in for sure."

"Thanks, Fitz," she said. They'd spent so much time in each others' company, studying and working and, sometimes, just spending time together.

"Although, you got a tough draw for your lab partner," Fitz said. "I mean, Skye Bennet? Really?" He winced. "I honestly can't believe she's in the advanced class."

"Yes, well, I should be able to cover that," Simmons said nervously. "Besides, she could probably use a grade boost."

"It's not fair that _you're_ responsible for her grades," said Fitz. "Has she ever done any homework? At all?"

"I don't know," Simmons said. "I'm just a little...scared. That girl terrifies me. She keep staring at me in class, like she's planning to kidnap and murder me or something."

"I wouldn't put it past her," said Fitz.

"That's why we're meeting to work in a coffee shop," said Simmons. "Completely public, completely safe."

"Unless you go into a dark alley," said Fitz, grabbing her arm suddenly. Simmons shrieked, then laughed.

...

Simmons sat, ramrod-straight, at a table at the local Starbucks. Her collar was popped out from under her purple sweater, and her freshly-ironed skirt was tucked demurely under her legs. She wore her hair in a tightly-bound bun, and her makeup was professional, tasteful, and smooth.

By contrast, Skye, who slouched into the seat across from Simmons ten minutes late, was a mess. She wore a too-big tan jacket over a too-small T-shirt displaying the logo of some metal band Simmons had never head of (she preferred classical music, thank you very much). Her cargo pants were splattered with paint, and her wavy brown hair didn't even look like it had been brushed. Instead, it grew from her head like a tangled briar hedge, framing Skye's stormy face and contributing to the impression that she was likely to scratch you if you touched her. For reasons Simmons couldn't fathom, Skye's bulky laptop was on the table in front of her.

"Right, then," said Simmons. "Let's get to work."

"Wait," said Skye. "Shouldn't we introduce ourselves first?" That was a bit more sociable than Simmons had expected Skye to be, but she was nothing if not polite.

"Oh! Of course," she said. "I'm-"

"Jemma Evangeline Simmons," said Skye. "Born in Oxford on April 3rd, 1998. Skipped two grades in elementary school and taking science classes several levels above her grade. Lives on 774 Maple Grove Drive, phone number 612-555-4389. Currently applying to the Emberly Program, and according to _Young Scientists Daily_, odds are pretty good that you're getting in. You specialize in biochemistry, while your friend, Leo Fitz, specializes in engineering. You've been best friends since you were about five, have won five separate major national science contests working as a team, and are not currently dating, but he's working up the nerve to ask you out."

"Fitz wouldn't-" Simmons began. "Wait, how did you-" Skye turned her computer around, displaying a page filled with complicated-looking computer code."

"That's what I figured out with a simple scan program in about ten minutes," she said. "I'll bet there's a lot more I could learn if I left it running longer. But I won't. I don't need to." She closed the computer.

"I'm not stupid," she said. "But I am terrifying." The realization hit Simmons like a slap to the face. Skye had heard every word of her conversation with Fitz.

"Oh my goodness," she said. "Skye, I am so sorry."

"Sorry you said that," Skye replied, "or sorry I heard?" She stared Simmons down.

"Both," Simmons said helplessly. "It was unutterably rude of me."

"Yeah, it kinda was," said Skye, crossing her arms.

"Wait," said Simmons. "What was that you said about me getting into the Emberly Program?" Skye smiled mischievously. It was the first time Simmons had ever seen Skye smile. She had to admit, it was a lovely change.

"Maybe I'll tell you later," she said. "But you were right before. We should get to work."

Messages:

Skye Bennet: heres a link 2 the article about the emberly program.

Skye Bennet: btw were fb friends now

Skye Bennet: i thought it would b easier 2 work on the project this way

Jemma Simmons: Skye, while I do admire your computer science prowess, tampering with my Facebook account is a violation of my privacy. The information you found out about me was fair game, I'll admit, but this is most definitely NOT.

Jemma Simmons: Also I would appreciate it if you would abide by the rules of spelling and grammar while you converse with me over the internet.

Skye: lol ur a n00b grl :D :D :D

Jemma Simmons: Why do I bother?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I've told you, Skye," said Simmons. "No one calls me Jemma. My parents don't even call me Jemma. _I_ don't even call me Jemma."

"Guess I'm just super special, huh?" said Skye. Jemma let out a frustrated puff of breath and took a sip of her iced green tea latte. "And who orders tea at Starbucks, anyway?"

"A lot of people, Skye," said Simmons. "Now, we have a project to do." She and Skye had begun working together regularly at Starbucks for nearly a month now. Every time they sat at their usual table, Skye suddenly morphed from a brooding punk chick who would glare at you if you tried to talk to her to a bubbly, excitable chatterbox. It was a relief, Simmons had to admit, that Skye wasn't constantly looking at her like she was a spider crawling on Skye's toilet. On the other hand, Skye was easily distracted, constantly asking Simmons about her life, her preferences, her friends, and her hopes and dreams, instead of focusing on the assignment. It was driving Simmons batty.

"A lot of people?" Skye said, continuing to tease. "Name three."

"It doesn't matter," Simmons said, ears turning red. "We have a paper to write. Getting back to infectious flesh-rotting diseases-"

"Already bored," said Skye, wrinkling her nose and examining her black fingernails. "And grossed out. What are you doing this weekend?"

"Skye!" Simmons reprimanded. "We have quite a bit of work to finish up. If you'll kindly listen to this bit of research I found, I think you'll find it quite helpful for your portion of the paper." Simmons began reading. It really was a fascinating article. The author discussed the evolution of airborne viruses and the necessity of prompt anti-serum development. Simmons, in fact, became so engrossed in the article that she was shocked when she looked up and found Skye glaring intensely at a boy sitting across the room.

"Skye!" Simmons said, clapping her hands lightly in front of Skye's face. "Concentrate!" Skye jerked backwards, nearly tipping her chair over.

"God, Jemma!" she said. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"It's Simmons," she said. "And I'll thank you to keep your mind on the matter at hand, instead of dreaming up revenge fantasies about whichever classmate happens to be bothering you at the moment!" She looked down at Skye's hands. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, some of which had just spilled on the table. "Were you painting your nails?" she said indignantly.

"They were chipped," said Skye. "So I fixed them. Do you paint your fingernails?"

"That's irrelevant," said Simmons. "Although the answer is no. I'm taking this." She slipped the nail polish into her backpack, ignoring Skye's protestations. "I feel like you can't seem to concentrate unless we're at school."

"You're the one who keeps volunteering to do extra credit projects," said Skye. "If you didn't, maybe we'd get more stuff done at school."

"If you don't want to help, I can do them myself," said Simmons.

"What? Let you screw it all up? No thank you," said Skye. "It's my grade, too."

"Maybe we should work at somebody's house," said Simmons, biting back a response about how it wouldn't make a difference, since she did all the work anyway. She didn't know what it was about Skye that made her want to be rude. She was constantly poking, prodding, trying to draw Simmons out from behind her glossy facade. It was irritating at times.

"Not mine," Skye said immediately.

"Fine," Simmons said. "Mine, then. Come over next week. Now, back to the paper."

"Can't we take a break?" said Skye. "Just for a little bit?"

"I don't think-" Simmons began.

"Please?" said Skye.

"Fine," Simmons sighed.

"Great," said Skye, taking a sip of her latte. "So, seen any good movies lately?" Skye always did this. Always turned the conversation back to Simmons. Simmons felt that Skye was curious about her, that she was some kind of foreign entity to the other girl. Was Skye trying to figure out how Simmons stayed so polished, so poised, so skillfully able to keep up the image of perfection? All things Simmons didn't quite know herself.

The funny thing was, if Skye wanted answers about Simmons, all she would have to do was hack into her social media again. Curiously, it seemed that Skye preferred to find out the answers in person.

...

"She's looking at me," Fitz whispered, waiting at Simmons' locker while she got her books. "Make her stop."

"Don't be such a baby, Fitz," said Simmons. Skye was glaring at them again. Once more, Simmons marveled at the way Skye could so easily take her angry rebel persona on and off, as if it were a sweater or a barrette instead of a personality. How could she be two such radically different people at once?

"How do you stand it?" he said.

"She's not usually like this," said Simmons. "Trust me, she knows she's scaring you. She probably thinks it's a laugh."

"Really?" Fitz said, suddenly interested. "Do you think she fancies me?"

"No," said Simmons, biting back a giggle.

"Are you sure?" said Fitz. "Because I could use a scary girlfriend to intimidate all my enemies."

"I'm not scary enough?" Simmons teased.

"Not quite," said Fitz. "Would you give her my number?"

"Honestly, Fitz, sometimes I cannot tell whether or not you're joking," said Simmons.

"I sort of am," Fitz admitted. "And sort of not. You seem to like her, so I'd like to get to know her, too."

"If you want," said Simmons. She realized that it was true. She liked Skye quite a lot, actually. She hoped they could still be friends next semester, after switching lab partners. Just then, her phone buzzed.

Messages:

10:14

Skye: hey girl hey :)

Skye: what ru doing

Skye: anything fun

10:15

Jemma Simmons: I was just talking to Fitz. He'd like to meet you.

Skye: fitz is ur boyfriend rite

Skye: doesnt he think im like a murderer or something

10:16

Jemma Simmons: Don't worry, I told him you weren't.

Skye: why would u do this 2 me

Jemma Simmons: And he is NOT my boyfriend!

Skye: u liar

Jemma Simmons: No, really, he's not.

10:17

Skye: o? any other boys? got a cruuuuush?

Jemma Simmons: Not really. I've never really been interested in boys.

Skye: how bout girls?

10:31

Skye: u still there?

11:04

Skye: J?

12:40

Jemma Simmons: I'm terribly sorry for not responding. I was in class. Perhaps we should limit the social media to after school, so that neither of us gets in trouble.

Skye: ok

Skye: u didn't answer my question


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Simmons nervously smoothed the pale pink, floral-patterned blanket on her bed. Logically, she knew that Skye wouldn't care how neat her room was, but all the same, she knew she wouldn't be comfortable entertaining Skye in a room that was less than perfect. Try as she might, though, she couldn't seem to smooth out every last wrinkle in the bed.

The doorbell chimed musically. Simmons popped up and ran for the door, partly because she was excited to see Skye, and partly because she didn't want one of her parents getting there first. In fact, she wanted to limit the interaction between Skye and her parents as much as possible.

She dashed through the kitchen, where her father, his thin, greying hair gelled back and his glasses resting on his sharp nose, sat reading the paper.

"Hold it, little miss!" he said. Simmons stopped short.

"Don't run to the door," he said. "You don't want whoever's there to see you sweaty and red-faced. Walk like a lady."

"Don't be like that, Andrew," said Simmons' mother, walking into the kitchen. Her light brown hair (the same color as Simmons') was bobbed, and she wore a professional-looking grey pantsuit. "She can run if she wants."

"Her hair is a mess," said Simmons' father, turning coolly back to his newspaper. "Fix it, will you?"

"You fix it, if you care so much!" Simmons' mother snapped, then regained her composure. "Simmons, dear, get the door. Your friend's waiting for you. Your father and I are just going to have a chat in the kitchen." Privately, Simmons wondered if her mother was dense enough to think that Simmons thought her parents "chatted." No, they only ever fought. Quick, snapping fights. Long, dragged-out fights where both her parents slashed with their teeth and claws and drew as much blood as possible. Silent, days-long, frigid fights where they refused to talk to each other for days and Simmons felt like they were all slowly freezing into ice cubes, fights that left parts of her frozen even after they ended, that made her feel like they'd never quite thaw. It didn't help that Simmons herself was responsible for most of them.

"Hello!" she said brightly, pasting a smile onto her face as she swung the door open. Skye stood, slouching, on the steps.

"That took a while," she said.

"I'm sorry," she hissed. "My parents are being absolutely-"

"Is that Fitz?" Simmons' mother's voice rang out from the kitchen. She heard the tapping of her mother's high heels across the kitchen floor.

"Maddening," she finished. "Come on. Get in the house, take off your shoes. I haven't quite told them about you yet, so hurry along. And stand up straight!"

"Wait, what do you mean you haven't-"

"Smile!" Simmons hissed. Straightening her own back, she turned to her mother.

"Mother," she said, "this is my new friend, Skye Bennet."

"You didn't tell me about her," Simmons' mother said accusingly.

"No, it appears I did not," Simmons said nervously.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simmons," Skye said as she extended her hand, a charming smile on her face.

"It's Dr. Fogarty," said Simmons' mother. "My _husband_ is Dr. Simmons." Her voice hardened at the word "husband", as if she were tensing up in preparation for a fight. She gave Skye's hand a quick, brusque shake.

"Don't be so rude to Simmons' friend," said Simmons' father. "Hello. I'm Andrew Simmons." He extended his hand, and Skye shook it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Did you know about Simmons' new friend?" Simmons' mother asked sharply.

"If I did, what would it matter?" he replied. "I'm her father."

"I'm her mother!" said Simmons' mother. "You need to keep me informed of these things." While they were distracted, Simmons pulled Skye into her room.

"Phew," she said. "Sorry about all that."

"Hey, this is downright relaxing compared to my house," she joked. She plopped on to Simmons' bed, wrinkling the newly-smoothed sheets.

"Right, then," said Simmons. "Let's begin with the bacteria lab." They studied, like they usually did, but it wasn't the same. The calm, relaxed atmosphere and steady, easy banter of the coffee shop was gone. Being at Simmons' house had ruined everything. It was setting her on edge, making her jumpy and nervous like a mouse who'd spotted the shadow of a cat. Skye's teasing wasn't helping, and to make matters worse, she was poking around her room.

"Skye! The lesson!" she snapped as Skye picked up a gold-framed picture from Simmons' desk. Simmons could feel her nerves fraying.

"In a minute," Skye said distractedly, looking at the picture. "Hey, are these your parents?"

"Put it down," Simmons said calmly, regaining her composure. It wouldn't do for her to get angry at Skye, because then one of her parents would get angry at her, and then the other would defend her, and they would fight (again) and it would be her fault (again). No, she could keep it inside (again).

"God, you're so anal," she said. "No wonder your mom's so pissed off all the time." That tore it.

"Shut up, Skye!" Simmons said, half-shrieking. "Put that down right now and...and shut up!" She immediately shut her mouth. _No!_ she berated herself. _That wasn't okay! _Skye dropped the picture, momentarily shocked. Then the easy smile slipped back onto her face. Simmons was relieved, despite her anger. Good. She hadn't ruined this friendship, even with her momentary slip.

"I'm very sorry," she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, because Skye still had that smug smile on her face, like she was enjoying this, and Simmons could barely stand it.

"No," said Skye. "You're not. You're mad."

"I-" Simmons began, but Skye cut her off.

"You'd better not pretend not to be mad," said Skye. "Don't lie to me." Simmons opened and closed her mouth, too angry and too shocked to say anything.

"Go ahead," said Skye. "Yell at me."

"My mother will hear me," said Simmons.

"What, are you scared?"

"Shut up!" Simmons snapped. Skye nodded. Simmons took a deep breath. "And stop mucking about with my things!"

"All right," Skye said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you!" said Simmons. "Now, back to the lab."

"Just," Skye said. "One thing." She gestured to Simmons' immaculate room. "No one's this perfect. So don't pretend to be. Around me."

"You won't like me," Simmons blurted out. Skye stared intently at Simmons' face, her brown eyes meeting Simmons' own.

"I think I will," she said, and Simmons felt like she'd just taken off her backpack after a long day. Freed.

...

New Messages:

8:17

Jemma Simmons: Skye?

Skye: yeah?

Jemma Simmons: (My, that was quick!) My parents insist that I invite you over for dinner. You have no obligation to come if you don't wish to.

Skye: i;ll come

Jemma Simmons: Really? Are you sure? You don't need to ask your parents?

Skye: i can come

Jemma Simmons: I haven't even told you when

Skye: i can come. i'll skip whatever i need to skip.

Jemma Simmons: You really don't need to do that.

Skye: do you not want me 2 come?

8:18

Jemma Simmons: Not particularly.

8:19

Skye: y not

8:20

Skye: am i not good enuff 4 ur parents

Jemma Simmons: Absolutely not! It's just that they're very judgmental people. They don't particularly like any of my friends except for Fitz.

Skye: thats why they need 2 meet me. im so charming theyll realized the error of their ways.

Jemma Simmons: If you're sure...

Skye: I'm sure.


End file.
